You are the Daybreak
by curly-sue-not-sue
Summary: 'Belly's eyes meet mine. They are the steel gray sea as the sun rises, kissed by gold and on fire with something that makes my insides burn. She isn't smiling anymore; she looks like she just woke up.' Belly's graduation, when she 'knew'.


I haven't seen her since the wedding.

She looks different. Not older, or even more mature, just… more lived in. Like a pair of jeans that, after three washings and a week of wear, finally fits just right.

She looks happy.

She seems taller, too. Her hair is shorter, just above her shoulders, and the butterscotch sunshine streaks peek out from under her graduation cap. She is laughing and grinning, hugging so many people I don't know; girls with running eye makeup and guys who hold on for too long.

I can feel Laurel watch me, gauging my reaction, but I breathe deep and keep cool. Isabel Conklin is just as aware of me as I am of her, even across the vast space of the auditorium. As impossible as it seems, I felt her eyes meet mine twice during her walk across the stage.

"Thanks for coming today, Conrad," Laurel says from beside me. She smiles sweetly, rubbing her back like my mom would. "I know she really will appreciate it."

I shrug. Coming doesn't feel like a sacrifice. "Wouldn't miss it."

"How long does it usually take for the crowd to filter out of this place?" Steven grumbles from my other side, tapping his phone screen with eager thumbs. "Emma is already waiting for us at the restaurant."

"Calm down, Steven," Mr. Conklin murmurs. "We haven't even gotten to your sister yet."

We're in the balcony of the auditorium, slowly inching down the staircase as the graduates mingle from below. Belly is still on the stage, now doing some kind of chant with her apartment roommates. My face hurts from smiling.

"Who's Emma?" I ask Steven, nudging him to erase his scowl as Lauren blazes the trail ahead of us.

As I knew he would, he grins.

"My girl. Six months now. I think this is it, man."

Steven never talks this way—in absolutes; that's Jere—so I know he's serious. I'm happy for him.

"She's lovely," Laurel pipes in. "Pre-law. Much too smart for Steven, but he seems to have accepted it."

Steven shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a giving man."

"And aware of it, too," Mr. Conklin grumbles from behind us.

I'm looking over the railing, trying to pick out Belly and the green dress she's wearing under her graduation gown, when I hear Steven bellow her name and feel Laurel yank me out of the stream of escaping graduation attendees.

It's her. She's here.

"You crazy kid, fighting the crowds to see us," Steven laughs, lifting Belly up until she screams. "I didn't know you liked me this much."

"Steven put me down! You're too wimpy for this!"

Laurel pulls Belly down, gently reprimanding Steven as Mr. Conklin hugs her then Laurel then Steven again and I stand to the side, hands in my pockets, wanting to grab her. I'm barely keeping myself from kissing her because it's been a year and a half since I have seen the girl I love and that's too long for anybody, especially someone like me, someone who has been in love as long as he has been alive.

"Isabel, look who joined us today," Laurel murmurs, finally letting me into the family circle. "All the way from California."

Belly's eyes meet mine. They are the steel gray sea as the sun rises, kissed by gold and on fire with something that makes my insides burn. She isn't smiling; she looks like she just woke up.

When I notice the infinity necklace around her neck, I wake up too.

"Conrad," she nearly whispers, barely audible over the crowd. "Hey."

I clear my throat. Remember how to breathe.

"Hey. Congrats."

"Thanks."

There's too much to say, so we don't say anything else. Belly spins to face Steven, suddenly a ball of energy as she harasses him about his girlfriend and whether she has cankles like someone he dated in middle school. Mr. Conklin comments on the ceremony; Laurel smiles at me, giving my hand a quick squeeze.

I can see it in everyone's eyes, and I feel it too; even with Mom gone and Jere back in Boston, every breath we take is drenched in Cousins' sea salt.

Ooo

I have never seen Belly's whole family together outside the beach house. Mr. Conklin has always been a non-entity in my life, a vague figure that Laurel or Mom mentioned when the summer was about to end. Things between him and Laurel are awkward, but they still care about each other and love their kids. It's cordial.

Still, dinner is almost painful, but for completely different reasons. I am sitting beside Belly in the booth and the side of my body that touches hers—shoulders to hips, occasionally knees and feet—is practically sizzling. I itch to touch her. My free leg bounces under the table, my hands are shaking; every inch of me is vibrating.

"Con, are you okay?" Belly murmurs through a sip of wine. Legally, she can drink but it feels stranger than it should. "You're shaking."

"Yeah," I say to my plate. I still can't look at her; my heart is exploding out of my chest. "Just tired. Long flight."

She nods. Across the table, Laurel and Steven have a spirited argument about _something_, but everything at this dinner has been fuzzy. All I know is that Belly's fingers are brushing my elbow under the table.

"How's school going?" She asks, voice hushed. Her hand reaches mine, fingers light and soft, playful until they link with mine. We both sigh, then exhale a laugh.

"Good," I whisper. "Being premed isn't exactly easy, but, you know… Good."

"I'm glad," she says. I finally meet her eyes, and she is almost beatific; she is smiling like she swallowed the sun and I feel something in me swell. We are on a collision course to the inevitable, but I ache to skip ahead.

I squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

"Mom?" She says, still looking at me. "I think I need to head home. I'm exhausted."

Laurel smiles, nods, pretends like she doesn't know exactly what will happen. Belly hugs her goodbyes, nodding when Laurel whispers something in her ear, and soon—after I give the 'I'm going to walk her to her car' excuse—I am sitting in Belly's car with the rain pattering outside the window, holding my breath like I'm in a tunnel and waiting for a wish.

There's this heavy moment, as if neither of us know where to begin, but Belly starts just as I take a breath to talk.

"It wasn't even weird to see you there today," Belly starts, like we were already in the middle of a conversation. "The last time I saw you was at my failed attempt of a wedding, and all I've heard of you is the letters and…" She exhales a laugh, shaking her head as she glances down at her hands. "I interrogate my mom about you whenever we talk. I tried to be subtle about it but after a while… I just gave up."

She looks up at me now. I wonder if my pulse is pounding through the entire car, beating through speakers, the bass beat of a song. "In the last couple of months, I see you everywhere," I say. My voice is shaking. "It's like you're certain and I'm just waiting for the day you finally come back and I can have all of you."

I've been looking out the front window, watching her out of the corner of my eye with my hands in my lap because I don't know what else to do. I have never been an expert with words, but she knows that. All I've ever had to do with her was try, but even that was too much most of the time.

It never felt right. I didn't want to do anything unless I was sure it would work, and that got me nowhere for more than twenty years.

"This was the first time I felt like coming wouldn't be intruding on anything," I explain. I know she isn't asking why I did not come sooner, or accusing me of being a coward, but I'm tired of being vague with how I feel. She deserves—has always deserved—the truth. "I wanted to give you space."

"Eighteen months is a hell of a lot of space, Conrad."

"I know. I just didn't want to scare you."

I was a piss-ant, is the truth. She's too sweet to say so.

"What did you want by coming here today?" She asks.

"…Absolutely nothing," I breathe. "All I have is hope."

She grabs my chin, turning my face to her. I finally swallow my guts and connect my gaze to hers, and she is shining brighter than I've ever seen before. Her hand stays on my face, moving to cup my cheek. I fall into her palm, letting her cradle me.

I close my eyes.

"I've lived on hope for twenty-one years, Conrad. It's a hard diet to quit."

I chuckle, but I keep my eyes closed. I have one more question.

"How is Jere? Have you been keeping in touch?"

Her other hand moves to my face. She surrounds me, now, and is climbing across the console to straddle my lap. I barely open my eyes and I see she is all heavy lids and ruffled hair, and I want to bottle this moment like a firefly in the summer.

"Yes, we're in touch. He has a new girlfriend now. We don't dance around the truth anymore."

She grins, her fingers playing with my hair. My hands are on her hips, slowly inching up the hem of her dress so I can slip my fingers under the slick fabric to the warm skin underneath.

"I am in love with someone else, I told him," she continues.

She's leaning toward me, brushing her bunny-slope nose against mine. I close my eyes and try to control my shaking hands, my pounding heart, but she just smiles against my lips.

She has always been able to undo me, and she loves it more than anything. I can feel it in the way the muscles in her thighs tighten, her hips inching to mine.

"What else did you tell him?" I murmur. Our lips brush. We both inhale.

"Nothing. There's nothing else he needs to know."

My mouth reaches for hers. She pulls back and has this soft look in her eyes as she says, "I love _you,_ Conrad Fisher."

I grin. "I know, Belly Conklin."

She smacks me on the shoulder, but before she can cause any more bodily harm, I grab her face and kiss her like I should have years ago.

Her lips are still. Surprised. I run a hand over her hair and down her spine, resting on her lower back to pull her closer. She feels me through my pants, I know it, but that doesn't seem to scare her. She recovers from her surprise because her hands are in my hair and her tongue is behind my teeth, playing with mine like it's a wrestle, and I vaguely wonder how we're going to wait until her place when she breaks away, panting.

"Do you have any?" Her eyes are wide, but her smile is massive even as I shake my head no. It eats half of her face. "I'm on birth control, but we can't be too careful you know, and we could probably go to the grocery store, but there aren't many around here so I guess we could find something or-"

"Bells," I say, grinning as her jaw swings shut. "Don't worry, okay? We'll take care of it."

She gives me a final kiss, climbs back over and turns the key, tossing me another smile before she throws the gear into drive.

Ooo

She comes into the drug store with me.

I told her she didn't have to, but she had shut the door and locked the car before I could say anything else.

"God, why are there so many brands?" She mutters, absent-mindedly rubbing my hand with her thumb as she grazes over the boxes with wide eyes. "Then each brand has different sizes and different _types_…"

"I heard the scented ones give people rashes. One of my professors at Stanford is trying to get them off the market."

She holds in a giggle, both of us barely able to keep a straight face before we burst out laughing.

"You guys okay over there?" The girl at the counter calls, reminding me that we are the only customers here.

"Uh, yeah!" Belly calls, her cheeks flushing under the freckles. I brush my thumb against the soft skin of her cheekbones, making her inhale a breath.

"Bells?

"Yeah?"

"Just grab a pack. Let's go."

She nods, almost dazed as she grabs a box of original Trojans—'whatever the hell that means'—and we walk to the counter. We ignore the cashier's smirk and suggestive 'have fun!' as we leave.

"Some people have no propriety," I grumble. Belly giggles.

"_Propriety_? Jesus, Con, are we in a Jane Austen novel?"

I eye the plastic bag swinging from her hand, making her blush all over again in the street light glare.

"Obviously not, Bells."

Ooo

"Well, um, this is it. Welcome home."

Bells is babbling like crazy, her nerves coming and going in waves as she explains that she got her own place after she went to Spain and the lease expires in August. She's rattling her keys and taking off her raincoat and shoes, turning lights on and off and opening the fridge door like she's going to grab something, only to close it five seconds later. All I do is take off my shoes and coat and lean against the counter, drinking her in, as she bustles around her tiny kitchen and pulls out two wine glasses and a bottle of red.

"…And Steven is pretty sure this is the girl he wants to marry, even though he's been 'pretty sure' about plenty of others—is that too much? Only half full? Okay—but she's really nice and good for him, even though she's vegan and always talking about it like it's part of a cult and not a diet choice-"

"Bells?" I interrupt. I usually wouldn't stop her mid-sentence, for the thousandth time of tonight, but we have more important things to talk about.

"Hmm?"

We're facing each other, leaning on opposite counters which, considering the side of Belly's kitchen, means that we're less than a foot apart. I can smell her perfume from here.

"Are you maybe just a little bit nervous?" I ask ruefully.

She blushes, looking down bashfully. I don't bother telling her that I'm nervous too, because I'm pretty sure she can hear the blood coursing through my veins from where she stands.

"It's weird, because everything's different but still the same," she says softly. "Like how it was at Cousins when we first got together, but not. I'm not a virgin and you're not a virgin and-"

"Wait, you're not a virgin anymore?" My heart double-times. Something clenches in my gut.

She's avoiding my gaze, looking somewhere just over my right shoulder.

"When I was in Spain…" She trails off, chewing the inside of her cheek. I wait. "There were a few nights when I got drunk, towards to end of the semester. I let go. I was having fun, but I was lonely and I was thinking about you and things just, kind of _happened_." She frowns, taking a sip of her wine. "It was gross, honestly. It was with the ponytail guy. He was nice, but it was over like that and he left right after because I had said your name instead of his."

My heart stops. My gut releases.

Her eyes finally meet mine. "I had always planned on being with you. Only you. Maybe it was a naive thought, but you were the only one I ever wanted. Sexually, emotionally, whatever. I know that we weren't technically together but I still felt like shit because it wasn't you, and that's all I ever wanted."

I drink my wine, the red grating down my throat like sand. I'm not angry, but I'm jealous, and I hate it.

I don't want to scare her away

"Bells, just because we have condoms doesn't mean anything. We have all the time in the world"

Honestly…" I trail off, wondering how much I'm willing to gut myself tonight, until I decide that I'm in this far. Might as well drown after I jump. "I'm happy to just be here."

She smiles ruefully, but her eyes are still bright. "Really? Just happy to be here, listening to my pitiful losing-the-virginity story?"

I chuckle. "Really."

She laughs, downing the rest of her wine in a single gulp. Not that she had that much to begin with, but I can tell the wine from the restaurant is in her system now. I can see it in her eyes, the line of her body.

She's feeling brave.

Then again, so am I.

She closes the distance between us, pinning me to the counter with her hips. Her eyes are dark, and every inch of my skin is buzzing. Her body is soft and warm, all coconut-vanilla shampoo and rose perfume. All _Belly_.

"Are you even real?" I murmur. She's tilting her head to the side, letting her lips slowly go to the pounding pulse at my neck. She kisses my neck, leaving fire in her wake with her lips and tongue. "I swear I had a wet dream like this when I was sixteen."

She laughs—full-Bellied—against my skin. All of her body is pressed against me, from chest to stomach too shoulders, and I feel her light in every inch of me.

"I always thought this would happen at the summer house. Maybe when the moms were gone and Steven and Jeremiah went off to do something, then we would just kind of look at each other over the kitchen table while we're both eating cereal or when we're on that stupid couch and it would just click. That would be it."

"Then we would have sex?"

She's moving her kisses to my jawline, her kisses suddenly soft. Light. Her hands are in my hair, pulling my head down to where she can reach, massaging my scalp in a way I can feel to my toes.

"Something like that. Yes. I usually didn't get much past kissing."

I grin, burying my face in her neck. God, she's warm. I kiss her skin, and she's making this noise in the back of her throat that's making my stomach clench and I want to take her against the wall _right here right now_ but this is _Belly_.

I have to go slow; I _want_ to go slow.

My hands have been on her hips, holding her closer, but now I slip and arm around her waist, pulling her closer, making the already nonexistent space between us less than that. Negative. The other hand is slipping under her dress and up her thigh, past her panties and hips, up to her stomach where Belly's skin is hot. Her lower back, where I know there are freckles just waiting to be kissed.

She's at my mouth now. We're inhaling each other, all tongues and lips and saliva and she yanks at my bottom lip and I am almost shivering with wanting her, then she puts both of her hands on my chest and pushes herself away, breathing heavy.

Wordless, she takes my wrist. I lace my fingers through hers, and even though we aren't smiling we are brilliant. Glowing.

I glance at her neck, where the infinity necklace had been all night—maybe since I gave it back all those months ago—and I know where we're going next.

Ooo

She's tracing the skin on my chest. The sun is rising, the sky is tinted pink, and Belly Conklin has finally let me count all her freckles.

Everywhere.

She's smiling against my skin, mouth curled and swollen from kisses. The sun might as well be radiating from my chest—the room is blinding.

"Conrad?" she murmurs.

"Yeah?"

Her gray eyes meet mine. She presses her lips together, like she's gathering her courage.

"Is this it for you?"

I play with the ends of her hair like I did so long ago, lost and drunk and so in love with this girl that I didn't know how to exist without touching her in some small way.

I don't ask her to elaborate. I know exactly what she's asking.

"It always has been, Bells. You know that."

I pull her closer. She sighs contentedly.

"Same for me," she says.

We fall asleep like that; entwined, iridescent. Infinite.


End file.
